


Time Turner

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-29
Updated: 2008-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: It’s your birthday. Wake up. Today you turn eleven. The rest of your life is waiting.// Hermione G., Something Unexpected forum challenge.





	Time Turner

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

It's your birthday. Wake up. Today you turn eleven. You will get out of bed, not brush your hair as you hurry downstairs for presents and pancakes with vanilla ice-cream on top, because it's the one day of the year your parents won't say anything about cavities. You will not expect the owl at the window at eight in the morning, knocking its beak sharply against the glass panes. You will gasp, and think about the Britannica encyclopaedia entry about them that says they are night-time creatures, and this will be surreal.

You will blink at the front of the envelope, addressed to a _Miss Hermione Granger, White Bedroom at the End of the Hall, Number 7, Pennington Lane, Gloucester, England_ , and wonder why on earth the colour of your bedroom walls are relevant. From that moment on, your life will be swept into a frenzy of wild and crazy unknowns, of magic and wands and pewter cauldrons you will need to buy from strange places you can see, but your parents can't. You will meet the best friends you have never had, not in the 'Muggle' schools where smart isn't cool, but geeky. Smart still won't be cool at Hogwarts, but it hardly matters because then you will be saving stupid boys from logic and riddles in little bottles of poison, from hidden monsters in pipes, and the inability to travel back in time. You will stand by them, even as they will break your heart with typical teenage boy cruelty time and time again, because you will love them more than you will ever dare say.

You will swear an allegiance, always and forever, to fight the good fight your best friend, with his lightning scar, will champion. And you will suffer for it, cutting off all ties with your family, your unsuspecting family who buy you rice cakes instead of chocolate, with the whisper of a spell you will utter yourself. _Obliviate._ You will endure forests and branches in your hair, a Cruciatus curse, and many senseless deaths for the day peace will reign, and you will all be free of terror and oppression. You will hold onto that hope, like a beacon of light in the dark times when you will dare not speak the name of You-Know-Who, and you have lost your friends, your family, the books you rely so heavily upon.

You will win a war, create a legend, then go back to school at the end of it all. You will have battled trolls, Death Eaters, and rumours concocted by a ladybug, but it will be like they never happened when you hold the heavy graduation scroll in your hand that will make you feel as though you are six again, bringing home a gold sticker of a star from school. You will stumble off the pedestal, tumble into the arms of a boy with impossibly green eyes, and you will take a chance, because this is Harry Potter, and he has stuck with you through everything. You will kiss his, once, twice, thrice for good luck, and hope he feels the same.

When he laughs, joyfully, ecstatically, giddiness in his voice, you will be relieved, because on that day, all your dreams will have come true. Six years later when you're lying on a hospital bed and screaming bloody murder because you thought to do this labour thing the natural way, the Muggle way, without any drugs or morphine or potions, and cursing Harry James Potter for ever doing this to you, the baby at the end of it, with your brown hair, and his almond, green eyes will be worth it. 

 This will be your life. Enjoy it.  



End file.
